


Stichtag

by FionasEmbrace



Category: Enzai: Falsely Accused
Genre: Age Difference, Battle of the Semes, M/M, Squick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-01-24 00:07:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1584446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FionasEmbrace/pseuds/FionasEmbrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Guildias, a pedophilic detective, was indicted and sentenced to that very same barbaric prison, intent on revenge for those that put him there. Forced to watch Myuca, the once-object of his affection, physically defile himself by the very worst of people, he subjects Durer, chief of the prison guard, to the full gamut of his cruelty- until becoming trapped himself.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter (only) is Gen.

"If you have a problem with how things are done around here, take it up with the party minister."

"Is that who I have to talk to about getting you to do your goddamned job?!"

Guildias was urged through the prison hallway by the arm. The familiar wet air, the distant screams. It always the same on the inside. This place despite anyone's best efforts stayed so dingy, bereft of any day or night or rain or sun or hiding places from the corruption outside. The passage of time seemed to stop completely. Or, since his whole engagement with Jared's murder. Cobblestone and layers upon layers of cement brick separated them here from the outside world. There were scarce few windows in this hallway, like everywhere else here, but they overlooked the walled-off courtyard that truncated his and Durer's view. 

"You're taking this out on the wrong person." Durer stopped them in their tracks, his patience thin. "The special privileges have to stop at some point. You know that."

"This from a rat in charge of rats."

The guards here tried as they might to keep the order, but most people here were high risk and the administration was rife with corruption.

And to think, it was only hours ago that he was free. He looked over to the window. Why did it have to rain today.

Guildias always saw this place for what it was: a tool. A means to an end, and the people inside, no matter what their lot was, were his playthings. Or at least, that's how it should have been. 

This hallway connected the reception area to the main holding room. Ah, 'Reception area' was always a euphemism. What a name that was, evoking images of a cheerful young lady with a filing desk and a quill for taking notes. That's exactly what it was not. This place meant, first, the forceful seizure of all belongings, then, the inspection along with an intrusive body search. The one responsible for the searches was typically the head warden - Durer would beat, feel up, or cavity search all the new inmates, or all of the above. It varied depending on his mood at the time, and how desirable he found them. No one talked about it, but everyone knew. Sometimes, one of the other, nicer-demeanored guards would tend to the reception area. But this was the exception and not the rule. Guildias was fortunate, and managed to circumvent most of the interview segment on account of the generous sum of money he paid the guards.

Beyond the iron bars, there were the guards who acted as an armed firing squad keeping watch. The long, dreary walk from the main holding area to what was, in practical terms, the dungeon. He knew this prison too well. But never from this angle. 

That's right. He would fight this, right until his last breath. 

Durer grew weary through so many vain attempts to peace the new inmate. If Guildias were any other person giving him that much lip, he would have sorely been made to regret it. Hell, he would drag any of the other prisoners away for some fun outside, or a good beating, or a trip to the dungeon, even for no reason at all, much less this much unruliness. But, this was different and they both knew it. 

It didn't even feel like that long ago that the tables were completely turned. The time when Guildias bought off all the right politicians, the wardens, the guards. In times like these, the public offices were rife with corruption and never took too many palms to grease to get someone in jail. And then those who dissented or might snitch, were accordingly dealt with. His power and influence effectively ran the whole prison. And it was possible for someone in the political sphere to effectively decide sentences and penalties, which they readily did. In these he could supersede the judge, the jurors and the police. With a bit of finesse, even minister Bollanet. 

"The retrial is around the corner, you miserable lout. And then, so help me-" He poked his pointed finger at Durer's chest. 

It was so rare to see this side of Guildias, but it did happen. The results of Guys's trial were a surprise to everyone. Guildias had effectively bought off the party minister, the judge, and even all of Guys's closest friends, and assured himself of this whole thing being well in the bag. Everything came crashing down when Guys clued into the conspiracy. Out of all the ways this could have panned out, Guildias never had foreseen that, not in a million years. 

"Sir. You know as well as I do, how things are different now. You don't have authority over this prison any more and I can't be accountable to you. Let's go, now." 

He abruptly grabbed Durer's collar, who struggled in wresting him off.

Durer caught his breath, and tried to keep full reign of the situation. "Why are you still fighting this?" 

Despite outward appearances, Durer had difficulty standing up to Guildias. He had on his best authoritative voice, the same one he used with all the other prisoners, but it was just a front. Durer had more reasons to be afraid of the man than he could count. Even though this prison was his palace, there was this undeniable point where that fantasy ended and the political game of the real world began. As much as he enjoyed his ego trip here, it was always in this neat, closed-off, little sandbox. There was a sense of safety under all the dust and cement, under the watchful eye of the party minister. Guildias was part of a different world. He knew very well what the man was capable of. 

Suddenly, Guildias's tone changed, from bitter to calm, unaffected, and characteristically pleasant. "I'll have your head on a stick." There was a very small smile. Durer scoffed. 

"That's coming from someone locked up by a drunk with a paperweight."

No, this wasn't a game he was interested in playing.

Durer grabbed Guildias by the arm, in the interest of maintaining some semblance of control, and transported him further along the corridor. He's had prisoners that were difficult before. They'd had no shortage of serial killers, perverts and severely disturbed people. Although, Guildias's case was undeniably special. He was far cleverer than your average psychopath, with a colorful history of manipulating the prison system to his whims, all while committing atrocity after atrocity on the outside. Durer had already communicated this to the guards, but there was scarcely little anyone could do. Deep down - and this was something he would not admit to anyone- 

Durer was actually a little afraid to be alone with the man. Not a lot. But just a little.

Finally, they arrived in the head guard's office, normally occupied by Durer. Papers and folders lined the old shelves, scattered bookkeeping for the prison finances along with some of the documents and letters forcibly seized from prisoners on suspicion of conspiracy. The remnants of the last external buy-off for a prisoner's release were still there. A great deal of inbound letters were screened here as well. There was a convenient fireplace here, which in practice was used not to accent the room, but to incinerate letters and evidence. None of the other guards were compensated quite as nicely as Durer, and so the room glowed orange from a lush sunset outside, being one of the few nicer, windowed offices. 

Durer closed the wooden door behind them and locked it. Guildias's arms were still fastened at the wrist with a loose metal chain. He was lucky enough not to have the crude wooden stocks this time. Those were usually doled out to the higher-risk offenders. There was slack so he could move his hands independently, and it couldn't prevent every kind of misbehavior, but it was a matter of protocol all the same. Guildias was not foolish enough to make a run for it and risk being open fired upon. 

Guildias tried the issue again, still maintaining his composure despite the circumstances. "One last chance. Arrange for my release, or..."

"This, again. Or what, exactly?"

"There will be trouble." There was a small, small smile.

Durer furrowed his brow, but wouldn't bite. He brought Guildias to his office for a reason, and it was not to bargain any sentences. "Let me get right to the point. Do you know a certain person by the name, Myuca?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I'm asking the questions, not the other way around. Do you know this person?"

"Monsieur," Guildias spoke as if explaining something simple to a child, "I'm not obligated to tell you anything."

"You will not be too greatly troubled, then, if I pay him a visit."

A flash of interest. "What?"

"You do know him."

"Irrelevant. Tell me what you're trying to do."

"But Monsieur, I'm not obligated to tell you anything." He imitated Guildias. But, he relented- "I'm nothing if not a charitable man, so I'll give you a hint." He continued looking out the window, at nothing in particular. "There lived a certain youth from this town, by the name Myuca." Durer played along with the charade that Guildias didn't know of whom he was speaking. "Well-liked, studious, kept out of trouble. No reason to connect him to anything suspicious. And he just finished his schooling, too- had such a bright future ahead of him. One day, he vanished, into thin air, just went missing from his home some time ago." 

Durer recounted all of this as if it was part of an interesting story. But, Guildias knew the whole thing already. "Now, Myuca's family was quite well-connected and capable of staffing every search our meager police force is capable of. High and low, the investigation has been going and going, but finding nothing. How curious!"

"Curious, indeed."

"Eventually, the search had to be called off. Everyone left him for dead. There was no explanation for how he went missing. These are troubled times, what with the new government, it is all too familiar a story."

"Hmph."

Durer put down the papers in his hand, and pulled up a chair, opposite to Guildias. "Now, here's where it gets interesting." He sat down and leaned in close. "We found Myuca, alive."

He couldn't suppress his shock. "W-what?"

"Poor thing was barely conscious, strangled half to death. Bruises all over his body, especially his neck- he was in a state of trauma."

Unfathomable. Guildias was positive, absolutely positive he was dead. Even buried in the corner of his mind, even though so much had happened since then. He could still remember it so vividly. The muffled scream, the trashing, the fingers closing around that pristine, pale neck. He strangled Myuca, and didn't stop until that writhing body went limp. And he didn't do it because he wanted to. He had to. Their brief time together was over. Myuca, as wonderful a creature as he was, started to represent more of a liability than anything. Myuca had been spotted, out in the open. Try as he might, Guildias tried putting him in those cute disguises, but it wasn't enough. People talk. It wouldn't take long for the local authorities to put two and two together. 

It pained Guildias. He adored Myuca, his perfect little porcelain angel, something that fulfilled this secret need deep down. No, it wasn't love. It was something else. All the same, he never wanted it to end like that. At first he supposed that just maybe, eliminating Jared would be enough. Killing that wayward detective would remove his trail, and send out the right message. But as the days drew on, it was more and more clear that his cover was likely already blown. There was no other choice, in the interest of his own survival he had to put himself first. But, no, it wasn't love. How did he know for sure? Because, he could always find another little doll to occupy his desires. 

After the killing act was done, he kissed the body all over, savoring the cold and lifelessness of it. He has a special, sick fascination with the possibilities in front of him. The lips that once turned away in protest, could not refuse him. The hands that pushed him away, implicitly welcomed him. The lifeless form beckoned him even in being motionless. If only this moment could last forever. Everything was perfect, now. 

His only regret, if only there was more time, he might finally have a chance to enjoy Myuca's body. In Myuca's life nor death, he never did. If things were different, he could keep him there, preserved in time forever, shielded from the prying eyes of the rest of the world. He would never age, never change, isolated from the cruel march of time to which Guildias himself would be inevitably susceptible. Myuca was a phantom. A silent, dirty secret. And behind closed doors, he was Guildias's property. Behind closed doors, he could keep him there as long as he fancied. He could cover him with all the kisses he meant for Elissia. He could rape him over and over. Guildias didn't know if he preferred Myuca alive or dead. All the same, no one else could ever hurt his sweet angel again. 

And that was the last he ever saw of Myuca. Guildias left the body, hidden, in a secret bedroom, concealed in a trapdoor behind the fireplace in his house, locked to the outside. It was the same run-down mansion on the outskirts of town, where he put all his other items of secrecy. On the bookshelf there was the damning evidence of his dealings with Bollanet, documents and letters that he regretted not burning. Myuca was kept there alive, too, during their short time together. But as for his death - it was that very same day that Guildias was arrested.

"You can't be serious..."

"Oh, yes. The doctors were stunned that he survived all he had been through. I mean, I wasn't there personally, but I was told second-hand. He was found during the investigation of Jared's murder. In some hidden corner of a house along the town border. That's all I know."

"That's all?"

"Well, there is more. He has recovered and was returned home. All the fallout remains to be seen. What do I know, a lowly prison lackey." Being smug, he referred to his station sarcastically. "But there's a strong likelihood of you being implicated in connection to all this, isn't there?"

"It can't be..."

"Now, do you see? The reasons why I won't help your appeal?" He stood up, and stared out the window. "If it were only the dispatch of that detective, only some misappropriation of money, or some alleged abuse of prisoners here, I could overlook it. I *have* overlooked it. Like I said, I'm a charitable man." In this case, this was really a euphemism for the dismissal of other peoples' crimes that went hand-in-hand with his own. Durer had utterly no high horse to ride on. "But nothing about this is simple. While I've dealt with your types before, you're different. You are one rabbit hole after another of problems."

"It would be a shame, wouldn't it?

"What?"

"You enjoy your job here, and all its deserts. It would be a shame if something terrible were to happen to the prison leadership."

Durer didn't know whether Guildias had anything to back up a threat. But, it was a matter of maintaining the right air of control. "You wouldn't dare."


	2. Chapter 2

The bell pealed loudly in the hallways, indicating the second watch. The night shift was never his cup of tea. Alphonse was still on his leave of illness and there was no one else to fill in. The day shift was the post he usually took, and it much more predictable. The skirmishes and disturbances during the day were frequent but minor. During mealtimes and work shifts, prisoners always had to be transported from one place to the other, and often there were fistfights between inmates and run-ins and the guards. Durer or one of the other guards would break them up and maintain the order. But, it was pretty routine business. 

The night shift was a very different undertaking. Most of the time on watch was dull- there was a lot of standing around and waiting. Lights out was supposed to be partway through the first watch, and all prisoners were meant to be in their cells, asleep. All the quarters including cell doors were locked, so there should be no movement through the facility besides the guards. 

Still, all of their worst, most grisly incidents happened at night. No exceptions. 

It was, somehow, too quiet, lately. Durer heard the crickets chirp outside as he passed through the corridor. If it was any other night, he would think of simply passing the time playing poker with the other guards, or maybe taking Vallewida out for a spin. 

Still, something made him feel uneasy. Durer lit a lantern and left his office for the cells, to continue making the rounds. It was annoying having to cover for someone else. Alphonse was usually pretty diligent at starting the watches on time, accounting for everybody, keeping the fighting to a minimum and breaking up the rapes. Durer also had an iron fist, but was much less fair about how he kept the order. He peered in each of the cells, verifying the presence of sleeping bodies, although not too closely. 

He heard something. Something curious, coming from one of the cells right at the end of the row. It sounded like a shuffling sound, much distinct from the din of people sleeping. He couldn't exactly place what it was. Baton in hand, lantern in the other, gun holstered at his hip, he went toward the far end to investigate. 

The cell looked harmless, but he could have sworn there was a noise. He unlocked it, stepped inside, and cast the light on the sleeping prisoners. Nothing suspect. He glanced elsewhere in the suspect cell, but nothing. Nothing there. Must have been the wind. 

Suddenly, he was grabbed from all sides.

One prisoner grabbed the night stick, another his mouth, another his gun, others restrained his arms. There must have been a dozen or so. He recognized some of them as the worst lowlifes in the facility, men who were always in and out of solitary due to violence. But there, right in front of him, was their ringleader. Clad in much simpler attire than his usual petticoat, but still as smug as ever. Guildias.

"Guildias, you motherfucking-"

"Can't we just be civil? What happened to that nice attitude from before?"

"All you're asking for is a bullet in your mouth-" Guildias put a finger up to Durer's lips. 

"The business between you and I is settled, when and only when I walk free out of here. Mr. Jailer, I've never asked very much of you, have I?"

"The only way you're *ever* leaving this prison", he spat, livid, "is dead."

"You of little faith." In that calm voice, there was still that small smile.

Two of the prisoners wrested him down, struggling, to the ground, never releasing their hold. The pulled at Durer's arms and legs, mussing up his nicely-pressed blue guards' uniform. His hat fell to the ground beside him in the skirmish. 

Guildias, even in prison, descended to the state in which he was, commanded a sense of authority. When he decided about his vendetta against the lead jailor, he'd made quick work of buying off a gang of the other prisoners to do his bidding. With abundant gifts of money, alcohol and opium nothing was too difficult. "Hold him down." Durer never stopped kicking and struggling to escape their grasp. Funny, he ruled with an iron fist in any normal situation. But take away his weapons, his badge, and someone to victimize, and he was just a man. 

Guildias squatted down, one leg on each side of Durer, and grabbed him by the chin.

"Initially, Monsieur, I had my doubts about you." Durer tried to move his head out of Guildias's grasp. Instead, Guildias grabbed the blond hair on the back of his head roughly. "I dismissed you as just another lackey here, blindly following orders, without the will or the spine or the power to do anything beyond what you're told. Definitely, nothing that involved standing up to the party minister."

"You mother fucker-"

Guildias sighed. He wondered if it was a waste of time trying to have a conversation with the man. He stood up while addressing the mob around him. "Do it."

The largest man in the mob quickly took Guildias's place on top of Durer, and yanked the front of his uniform open, ripping some of the buttons off, revealing his skin, as pale as anyone's. 

He looked down at Durer. The largest of the mob was a scruffy-looking man, dressed in ugly, worn prison attire. He looked vaguely familiar to Durer, but then again, this prison housed so many lowlifes of a similar nature, they all blended together. It didn't help that they were always referred to by number, not by name. "I know you well, Mister Jailer, but you probably don't remember me." Durer shot an angry look, but it didn't faze the bear-like man.

"Let me refresh your memory." While he spoke, he played with Durer's buttons absentmindedly. "It was over eight years ago, that I came to this hellhole. Locked up for a bar fight that went too far, let's just say. And on the day of my arrival, I was promised legal due process." His close contact was clearly nothing except to relish in his new found power, and to get on the man's nerves. "I wrote all the necessary correspondence to my lawyer. I was so diligent. And on the outside, I had a bright future ahead of me. But what did you do?" This was all going according to plan, Guildias thought.

"Part of my job is dealing with scumbags like you. You are really a dime a dozen."

"You confiscated them. And my money, too, for good measure. Now, the deadline for the appeal came and went. Months went by. No word from them or anyone. It was after that, that I found out what happened. And now, because of you, I'm locked in here, forever."

"Exactly what you deserve", Durer said.

The large man socked Durer right in the head. Durer seized a split-second window to wrest an arm free, and hit him back in square in the jaw. The others in the mob scrambled to hold him down and keep him there. Then the prisoner shoved him back against the ground several times, and elbowed him in the chest. He spat on Durer and the others goaded him on. The thin man at the side put his hand on Durer's chest to steady him. Then the large man started to put his hands all over Durer, tearing open the man's trousers. Before doing anything, he looked at Guildias, as if to ask for permission.

"Do whatever you want. Rape him for all I care. Just leave him alive", Guildias said. 

"S-Stop!" Durer glowered over at Guildias, who kept a safe distance. With new found enthusiasm, he unbuckled Durer's insignia belt and yanked down his trousers and underclothes, and pulled his legs up and apart, exposing his member, still soft, to the cool air. Just one pant leg was all the way off, exposing his gartered knee sock. Durer continued to struggle through this, but it was no use. The rest of the mob swarmed over him and still held him down. 

"You don't know how long I've been wanting to do this. To get that lowlife prison official who ruined my life, and take him until he can't walk straight anymore. This is amazing..." The man was so eager he was practically shaking. Durer glowered at him. He didn't know who to hate more, Guildias, or this man. 

He pulled out his erect member and spat into his hand, smoothing it over himself. And that was it. He positioned himself on top of the hapless jailer, who was in no position to fight back no matter how hard he tried. His hands were free, so he could use one to stabilize himself and the other to guide himself in. He aligned his member with Durer's entrance. Between all the spit and the pre-come, it was wet enough to be comfortable. Then he shoved it in. 

Durer choked back a noise. He had done this so many times before to his inmates, without so much as a second thought, but it had never been done to him. The irony. There were times he thought of switching things up with Vallewida. He never told anyone about these thoughts, and would take it to his grave, but the curiosity ate at him. He wondered what it would be like to see the look on that beautiful, bewildered man's face when he was made to lay there and be forced to fuck someone rather than simply lie there and take it, like he always did. Actually, it wouldn't have to be Durer that did it with him, necessarily. Funny, Vallewida probably wouldn't even know what to do. And it's funny, when Vallewida was left all alone with that runt Guys, Guys still fucked the shit out of him. Not the other way around. All the same, Durer thought better of trying to subvert Vallewida's nature. Now he tried to move away from the man penetrating him, but it was no use was still held firmly in place by the rest of them. He did not bleed, but it hurt. Fuck, and most humiliating of all, the mob was all around, they were going to watch this whole thing. And so was Guildias. 

Pleased with this turn of events, Guildias moved in beside Durer while he was being brutally fucked through and through. He leaned in, as if to engage in some pleasant banter.

"You see, I knew Bollanet's role here from the start. " Durer's eyes were half-lidded in rage and humiliation.

The bear-like man ignored Guildias, and showed no mercy. He held Durer down by the neck, needlessly so since the others were still holding him, and ravaged him. He was loud, gross and obnoxious. He clung to Durer like a drowning person to dry land. Almost as relentless as Durer himself. Durer's disgust well overtook his physical torment. 

Guildias gloated, half-conversing with himself, moreso than Durer, "No, don't act so surprised. I wouldn't be the best at what I do, otherwise. I understand now, Bollanet's real connection to this prison. And part of it lies here, with his loyal son. There is definitely the physical resemblance! How was I to think any differently, than to consider him singlehandedly responsible for *you* ever setting foot in this hellhole?"

"What exactly does it take for you to shut your mouth?" Durer managed. Guildias kept his calm demeanor. 

The man from the mob didn't let up. "Y-you'll never know..." The large man was short on breath. "You'll never know, how much I've been wanting to do this..."

It happened that this particular prisoner had avoided much of the abuse heaped on the others, and never done it with a man before. This being his enemy, it was more satisfying than anything he had ever fucked.

Guildias mused, "from the looks of it, it's something our very own Durer has wanted, too." He said this, staring at Durer's exposed member. The large man looked down and then it was obvious what he was talking about. Even through his pain and humiliation, Durer had become fully hard. He wasn't about to get off anytime soon. Still it was an involuntary physical response. Nobody had touched him.

Finally, the man started trembling, "I-I can't..." He was shaking as he kept pushing himself inside. Durer's insides involuntarily clamped down on him, especially as jailer struggled against the multitude of arms grabbing at him. Finally, it became too much. He shoved himself in as far as possible, and came inside Durer. He continued making small thrusting movements as the warm seed filled up Durer. Some of it leaked out, but some of it stayed there, especially with the position he was forced into. He collapsed on top of Durer for a few seconds, savoring the moment. This was gloating, not affection. Finally he withdrew and backed off, although Durer was still held in place. 

Guildias instructed to the mob, "now, the rest of you. Do whatever you want. Have your way with him." They leered at him eagerly. Durer realized. They were going to take turns with him. There was nothing he could do to stop them. Being a guard at the facility never won him any friendships with the prisoners- in fact, his reputation of enforcing hard labor and violent, completely unwarranted abuse gave him just the opposite. Fortunately for them, none of them had been raped by Durer, for none were as pretty as Vallewida, but that didn't improve things any. Each of the mob had been wronged or harmed by Durer one time or another. Guildias chose them specifically for that purpose. For each of the mob, it wasn't just a matter of doing Guildias's bidding. It was personal. None of them had a chance of escaping the prison, so destroying the hell out of Durer was the very best next thing they could get. 

They didn't need to be told twice.

The next one, a smaller, thin-framed man who somehow looked no less menacing, took the last man's place. He had less of a reputation for starting fights than the larger man, but he was in jail for some of the worst financial crimes in the country and was sleazier than anyone. Like the first man, he had made the prison his new home and had nothing left to lose. He was visibly excited from watching the other man rape Durer right in front of him, and was waiting his turn to finally get in on it. He had a noticeable bulge in his pants which he undid to get comfortable. He hastily got in the other man's place, pulled down his trousers and pushed into Durer without too much effort. The semen from the last man was still there, and made penetration very easy.

At this point Guildias was still lounging, back to the iron bars, beside Durer. He wasn't even too concerned about Durer fighting back, at this point. Durer was stripped of his weapons, and besides, he was really preoccupied. There was the rest of the mob to intervene if there were any sudden moves. Guildias and Durer's conversation had been so rudely interrupted. Despite Durer beside him getting continually fucked, Guildias spoke to him in a calm, decorous manner.

"In any case, now, I see it. There's something different about you, something very unique, something that the other worthless peons gatekeeping this place lack. And, let me confess something, if you don't mind. That quality is something I aspire to have, too. There's a fire somewhere. I can tell, I can smell it. Smoldering right in some narrow pit in your skull, compelling you to do what it is you've been doing to Guys and to Vallewida." Durer half-wondered how Guildias could even begin to know about Vallewida. The full extent of that man's craziness and the damage done in his past. No, he didn't know. Guildias was quite the talker even about things he couldn't begin to understand.

The thin-framed man could hardly last at all. The fit was so smooth now, it was more than he could handle. Durer had stopped struggling as much and started to relax more, although it was still just as tight. The thin man started trembling, and cried out. He emptied his seed deep into Durer, joining the first man's. From the looks of it now, all of them wanted a turn. Next was an uglier type of man, whom he vaguely remembered beating and leaving in solitary for a couple days. The man took a special interest in Durer's body, and felt him up all over, sliding his hands under his half-on uniform tunic, touching his chest and stomach, and pinching at his nipples and pulling Durer's hair a little. He played with Durer's dick while fucking him. 

Guildias continued. "I'm talking about the times that you took Vallewida for yourself, to break him to your will, and claim him forever." Guildias's comments might have seemed insightful, or even minutely flattering in any other context. Durer wanted very much to bash his smug face into oblivion. Guildias mused at Durer's predicament. He may as well have been having a conversation with himself. "Oh, I know what that's like. To attain the unattainable. I want it too. You know, if the circumstances were different, I could just be persuaded into trying to help you."

The third man finally reached the end, but pulled out and ejaculated on Durer's stomach. He smeared it around absentmindedly. Disgusting. He remained interested in Durer's member, now fully swollen, and leaking. He kept touching the jailer, stroking him slowly. Durer hated the idea of getting off on this type of treatment. The next one in the mob grew really impatient with him and pushed him out of the way to get his turn. The other one at Durer's left side wanted it now, instead. He pushed the other man. They kept pushing each other back, and then it escalated into a full-blown fistfight. One man socked the other firmly in the stomach, which was repaid with a blow to the collar. Finally the first man let up, and let the second man have a turn. Durer would have had a window of opportunity to escape if not for the remaining men holding his arms. He still kept his resolve. Still, Guildias quietly spoke to him.

He continued, "as for me, I never wanted to become someone like Bollanet. I don't want to take over the whole world. But I just want to take hold of that same fire."

Durer wanted to push away the next prisoner climbing all over him, but it was impossible. For some reason the man's injuries in the fight did nothing to faze him or subdue his interest. He took out his still-hard member and jerked himself off a few times. It looked like he was already right at the edge. Still he assumed the same position as everyone else on top of Durer and just shoved himself in. His equipment was the same size around as the last man but just a bit longer than his, when thrust in all the way it caused the jailer to start consciously needing to hold back his voice. He didn't want to give them the satisfaction. Soon, when this was over, he would see to it that Guildias understood what a mistake he was making. Guildias was right about one thing; he really had no place here. Durer wondered, without the mob to protect him, if he wouldn't just get eaten alive in a place like this.

Guildias put an arm around Durer, down against the bars. It was something really friendly, despite the jailer still being ravaged on and on by the injured man. He said, "if things were different, the silly bars dividing us wouldn't matter any more. If things really were different, Durer, you and I could conquer this place together. " He smiled. "But, nothing is ever that simple. You were dealt an unlucky hand indeed to cross paths with me here, and your value to me is wearing hopelessly thin. You didn't understand the consequences of treating me like another one of the captives here."

Finally, the prisoner from the mob couldn't last any more. His wounds were now quite visible under his tattered clothes. He narrowly avoided getting any of the blood on Durer. He buried himself inside the tethered-down jailer, savoring it right until the end. In the haze of pleasure, the pain of his injuries didn't seem to matter at all. As he pulled out, he still got some of the seed on himself, his clothes now stained with both blood and semen, and so was the floor. For him, the world shifted back to reality, and once the haze of arousal was lifted, he cared about his injuries again. He clamored back, nursing his shoulder, eyeing the man responsible for his injuries, angrily, plotting. Guildias paid the prisoner no mind.

"Still, I hope you never lose that sense of ambition. I always want to see that pride and fire in your eyes, even when the insects here are crawling all over you."

Guildias had a type of sick fascination with certain things. In particular, with what was being done to Durer, here, in this very prison cell, despite being physically disengaged from it. He stared at the men as each of them did it and finished whether it was inside or outside of him. He stayed right there even though there was no real reason he had to. He kept right beside Durer, and kept his arm around him as if they were old friends. It was bizarre. But he still kept his calm, unaffected demeanor. And from the looks of things, Guildias was completely flaccid. For Guildias, fully clothed, there was nothing discernible showing there or other symptoms of arousal. 

"And to think, I almost weaned off these awful activities," said Guildias, referring to the gang-rape. He sighed. Guildias's rich, colorful history of abuse was known to everybody in the jail administration. "The heart wants what the heart wants."

Durer looked over, and saw that Guildias was still watching him. And that's all he was doing- watching. Throughout this whole episode, not once did Guildias touch him, or seem as if he was going to take part in anything sexual himself. It seemed odd that he would even want to be present.

Finally, Durer spoke. "Why are you doing this, really? You don't get anything out of this, do you?"

Guildias looked down and let out a half-smile. "That's correct. You see", he looked Durer up and down, even now, "you aren't my type, I'm afraid."

Then, Durer knew. Guildias really had no right to talk high and mighty about abstaining from sexual conquests. No, that was half his reason for existence. Once could be tempted to say that Guildias had no room in his heart or his sexual desires for anybody except Myuca. Although, that was giving him far too much credit. The reality was, Guildias did have a type. It was something younger, purer, and frailer, compared to someone like Durer. Not a child, but not an adult in all respects either. Someone he could easily manipulate to his whims. Guildias was irreparably sick. There were always rumors that he might be a pedophile. No one could really know. But in Guildias's heart, the problem, that awful void existed for the longest time. The broken home in which he grew up, his broken engagement and unrequited love changed him forever. Now sex was never intimacy, it was a means of enforcing control and was an expression of power. Really, this attitude was something Guildias and Durer had in common. It boiled down to having someone to subjugate. But in how they would go about it, they were very different. 

In truth, Guildias paid no mind to anyone in the world except his Myuca, and substitutes thereof. Even someone as beautiful as Vallewida never be attractive or interesting to him. Vallewida had too much perception, too much corruption from the world, too much strength. Guildias wanted someone small, dainty and malleable, a perfect little angel. It wasn't even something real.

Durer didn't need to know. The watch bell sounded, all throughout the hallways. It was far early, much sooner than the next watch should be. The other guards must have noticed something was amiss and sounded it. The mob, not a little unsatisfied, broke formation. Hastily Durer pulled up his pants and snatched his things back uninhibited. For the mob, it would be their necks if they were caught with weapons. Durer fixed his garments and clamored out of the cell. Meanwhile, the mob returned to their cells lest they get caught doing what they were doing. The one remaining prisoner was there only to hope no one would find all the blood and semen on the floor.

Who was he kidding. In the prison, it was nothing out of the ordinary.

Durer could attempt to get the other guards, or even the people above his head to get involved. He didn't care for that. He didn't have to. By his hand alone Guildias was going to pay.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is 'the Bollanet chapter'. Optional. You could skip it- but why would you do that?

That night- with Durer, the skirmish, and the mob, in the far cell- while the physical wounds were fully gone, he would never forget how much he hated Guildias for all that he did. The jailor could dish it out as well as anyone, but couldn't take it. He would repay that conniving bastard if it killed him. No excursions with Vallewida, or any of his usual targets could really raise his spirits. No, he knew what needed to be done. But he didn't know how, without causing a huge shitstorm on the outside. 

Now wasn't the time for dwelling on these awful things. Today was a special day. There was to be an important visitor to the prison, a person from the outside with ties to Guildias- and someone important enough to bypass the normal rules about where and how they are allowed to meet prisoners. That was all he could say for certain. It piqued Durer's interest. The whole thing was organized through this man's lawyer, with the special request Minister Bollanet himself would agree to supervise the visit "in order to mediate any conflicts". Completely unprecedented. 

Durer brought Guildias to meet with his visitor. Guildias had a suspicion this was no ordinary meeting, if only for the fact that it was in the office in the far wing. Yes, that place belonged to the minister of French domestic security.

The security minister's office was tidy and luxurious, a conspicuous thing to see down in the decrepit confines of the prison. While the prisoners lived in nothing short of permanent, desolate grime and tattered belongings, the wealthy aristrocrats on the outside enjoyed all manner of material pleasures, and this office was a constant reminder of that. Minister Bollanet invested a piece of his illicit income to establish his office here, attached right to the prison grounds. For this home-away-from-home here in the prison, he wanted to make it agreeable to his high standard of living. The custom-fitted wall coverings, the fireplace trim, the plush carpet - each thing in isolation probably cost more than the whole prison interior combined. On the desk, next to the stack of documents, was his favorite, an expensive bottle of red wine. And, of course, there was the practical purpose it served- the bookshelves were lined with thick, authoritative-seeming volumes, a select few of which actually posed as secret containers for money and damning evidence. Odds were no one would come looking in a place like this. 

The warm candlelight might offer this place's visitors some reassurance, if they weren't accompanied by all the atrocities committed by Durer and Bollanet inside. 

In this type of place Bollanet was right at home. An ugly person both inside and out, his gluttony for wealth was matched only by his corruption and cruelty. Maybe it was destiny. As a young man, he sleazed his way to the top of the political chain and reaped the immense wealth that resulted. A true snake, even by politician standards, he kept his post through the years through an impressive legacy of threats, blackmail, and bribes. Now that his station was so well-secured, all there was to do was maintain the right set of cover-ups, particularly keeping under wraps the testimony of a certain long-haired war deserter. How convenient, then, that he could stay back and administer the prison in the sidelines, while nobody in Parliament was the wiser. In the prison, he was truly unstoppable. 

Owning the prison wasn't only a vehicle for his political ambitions. Bollanet's lust for power was well-matched, of course, by his sick, sexual depravity. Underneath all the wealth and frilly neckties and titles, he was really just a lecherous old man. One may think that through his age, the years would take their toll, his energy would wear away and his sexual appetite would diminish. But, no. His perverted whims were unstoppable as ever now that he had full authority over the prison administration. 

And as the years drew on he grew rounder and his hair was balding, the objects of his "affection" remained ever the same. In his own words, he always liked "dirty, effeminate men". A bit older than the ones Guildias preferred, although he had no issue forcing himself on someone young enough to be his child and then some. In prison, no one could deny him or refuse his ugliness.

Durer, his oldest son, grew up to be handsome enough in his own right. If not for the constant sex he procured through his shift, and Bollanet's complacency with the abuse, he could move out into the world of love and courtship and have no trouble at all. Although, as his father would constantly remind him, he looked just like Durer in his young age, and to just "give it time" for that youth to run out. Who could say. In any case, Durer's hot-tempered nature made him different from his father. Durer held grudges, special attachments, and was very easily provoked into aggression. It was surely a learned behavior, from growing up so spoiled. Durer and Bollanet had a mutual understanding about their abuse of prisoners and their right to treat them like their property. 

Their father-son relationship was a strange one. It would have been enough that they would know about each other's sexual advances on prisoners. No, they were accustomed to witnessing each other fuck people, right in the same room. Durer was well-acquainted with his father's depravity. Time and time again Bollanet's interrogation sessions went out of hand and led to the old man questioning, searching and violating someone- all while Durer was supervising. He did not so much as bat an eyelash. No, he could even be aroused through his disgust. Having his father around didn't necessarily excite him, it's just that he simply didn't care. Each time he got involved with a new victim, his perception became clouded and gave way to his desire and nothing else mattered. 

Likewise, Bollanet had watched his own son commit rape after rape. It never interfered with Durer's conduct, and Bollanet considered it an element of his duty, and believed that he raised Durer well. On some level the jailer thought of having his father around to be an appropriate treatment for all of them, an extension of his victims' humiliation. One thing was for sure- as for Durer's cruel nature, the apple didn't fall far from the tree.

Now, the three of them, Durer, Guildias, and Bollanet were convened in the office. Bollanet was still relaxing back in his chair, enjoying his glass of wine. Durer was giving Guildias subtly dirty looks. He still sore, both figuratively and physically, from the episode that happened before. They were waiting. Durer heard the toll. It would be any time now. It wasn't very often that visitors were actually allowed inside the prison, beyond the specially-allotted visitation room- and in this case, this person had the specific request of meeting with the detective. This was a most strange day.

Finally, footsteps. Durer's assistant guard Alphonse led the way.

"Your guest is here, Mister Guildias."

Escorted by Alphonse, the person walked into the office.

It was none other than Myuca.

And that was when Guildias saw him for the first time since the incident. It couldn't be real. Durer immediately thought of all the possibilities that lay ahead of him. He could do anything. Or, more specifically, he could use visitations with that kid as leverage to get Guildias to co-operate.

Until now, Guildias had never accepted it. He couldn't acccept that Myuca was alive. Through and through, it must have been an elaborate scheme on the part of Durer - he wouldn't put that past him - or some kind of mistake. The memory was so vivid. That day he was so certain that he felt Myuca's cold, lifeless body under his fingers, slack beneath his grasp. That waking shriek. That sound. That lack of sound. How could he forget. In his heart of hearts he couldn't understand the source of that high, but how he remembered it. It was that same sense of arousal, which came crashing in as the body squirmed under him. And he honestly believed that he did it. But, no. Here he was, and it was exactly like before. Even when he was in good sorts, Myuca was never the picture of energy- he always had those same tired, timid eyes and a weak body. Guildias loved these traits and fetishized every part of him. Myuca's angelic, blond hair and porcelain complexion made him look even younger than he was. But now, he no longer wore night-clothes, or girls' clothes, or nothing. He dressed appropriate to a boy his age- a clean, white blouse with a necktie and some comfortable dress pants. A bit like Guys's type of dress, although Myuca's family had more money. 

That innocence that he so wanted to lift away, to claim and force, it was still there but it was changed. Guildias even had the sense that Myuca had aged, somehow, since he last saw him. It wasn't even that much time that had gone by. But there was something of a dark seed in Myuca's heart, and he'd be damned if it wasn't the work of Guildias himself, a demon in his own right. It had to have changed him, to have etched away some of that innocence that the detective so lusted after. Was it enough to deter Guildias's desires? No. He still wanted to ravage Myuca right here and now.

Seeing that Myuca was in good hands with Durer and Bollanet, the other jailer left. Guildias was still reeling. 

"Myuca, is it really you?"

Despite everything that happened, Myuca had a calm, kind smile. Guildias wanted to see past that disguise, and find out the truth. Why was he really here? Why seek him out, now? "You remember me, Detective Guildias. You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Myuca, my dear. Tell me- how is it that you..." Guildias ignored everyone else around him and stepped forward toward the youth. Durer looked at Bollanet with a questioning glance, putting forth whether they should intervene and break them up. Myuca wasn't a prisoner, and if Guildias lashed out and attacked him, there would be shit to pay. Bollanet just looked on with interest and muttered that there was no need. They can have their moment.

Guildias touched Myuca lightly, on the side of the face. It was so gentle and affectionate. "It was never my intention to hurt you." He didn't grab Myuca, but stood ever so close. For most people it would have been enough to sweep them off their feet. Guildias was a handsome man in his own right and charming when he wanted to be. 

"I know." Myuca stared at the ground, choosing his words. He knew this might be his only opportunity to talk to Guildias ever again. "You're here now, committed to this prison, and that's enough for me. You're out of my hands now, and into the hands of this prison. But, there's something about that. Something missing. Through what you did to me, even after you left me for dead, I've thought about it all, over and over."

Guildias was very careful with his words, too, especially in the present company. There was no sense in removing doubt concerning what he did. "What exactly do you remember?"

"A lot. Don't you know? Laying on that bed, staring at the ceiling... I thought that I would die that day. Do you know what it's like?" Guildias felt like he did, but the years had clouded his memories. "In my heart I had almost given up. It seemed hopeless to resist any more. I was this close to resigning myself, to sleephood, to silence, and to death. The was no reason for it, no reason at all. Nothing about it made any sense except for your part in it. Yes, I thought a lot of things that day. About what all of this really meant, and about what kind of a creature you really are. I don't need to wonder these things any more."

Guildias just looked at Myuca's pretty little head, entranced. "You look exactly the same as you did back then."

Myuca continued, "I can't lament the past forever. But I knew I wouldn't feel right until I could meet you again."

"We're together, now," Guildias said, so barely masking his sinister intentions. He took both of Myuca's tiny hands in his own. 

"Yes, detective."

"Let me take you back. Once I get out of this place, I'll make you mine and no one will hurt you again." Bollanet took a sip of his wine, now that this was just getting interesting. Durer looked on, apprehensively. One sudden move, and this ends.

"That sounds so nice, Mr. Guildias."

"I'm not going to tell you twice. You belong to me." Guildias wanted so much to hold him, to caress the side of his face, to assure him that everything was fine.

"You don't understand, do you? The reason I'm here?"

"What on earth do you mean?"

"This is what I've decided. I'm here to give my body over." Guildias's eyes went wide. He never saw this happening. "Just, not to you."

"Myuca?"

There was a small, devious smile. A secret waiting to come out. "The Security Minister."

The Security Minister.

Please, no.

Anyone but that.

Myuca looked at him right in the eyes. Durer looked at Guildias. Guildias had a blank expression. Bollanet nearly spat out his wine.

No one including Durer knew about Myuca's plan. This was all under the pretense of a normal visitation. He gestured over to the corpulent man, sitting over at the desk. 

When it finally sank in, Durer was very pleased with this turn of events. Even at a moment's notice, the fat minister would have no qualms at all with fucking someone like Myuca. Durer had seen it firsthand so many times before. Bollanet would screw pretty much anything that was young and attractive, and didn't really need any warning, but someone like that was a rare treat indeed. While he normally preferred someone like Vallewida, he wasn't overly picky, and his preferences no longer really mattered when he started getting involved with the prison and found out how easy it was to screw the inmates without consequences. 

This couldn't have happened better if Durer himself had planned it.

"But... why? I can't even..."

"Don't you see, Mr. Detective? I was never yours. The person you're obsessed with- who is it, really? I was replaceable to you. I know that, you know that, and you proved it when you tried to kill me. I'll release you from that. This is for you."

"No. Don't do this." 

"You'll see. It's better this way."

"Unbelievable... " He looked over to the jailer, who stood back from Guildias and Myuca, quite pleased with how today was unfolding for him. "Durer, put a stop to this immediately!"

Durer put up a production of being deeply insulted. "What is it that you mean to say, Mr. Guildias? That my father is not good enough?"

"Precisely, I wouldn't wish that fat swine on my worst enemy."

"You take that back!" Even though he deliberately provoked Guildias, this made Durer angry. "Have some respect. The security minister is our most esteemed guest. You are not worthy to even look upon his face."

Then Guildias tried to punch Durer in the face. Durer and Guildias moved quickly into a struggle and a fistfight, whereby Guildias was trying to prevent him from getting at his baton, and he did not bring his pistol. Durer used his elbow to get leverage in an attempt to push Guildias away, and then Guildias continued to try and slug him in the face. He was well-accustomed to these types of scuffles in the prison, however, and avoided his fist, instead returning a swift punch to Guildias's stomach, intending to buy just enough time to reach down and get his striking implement. Despite Durer gaining the upper hand Guildias just would not let up. He breathed heavily, his calm demeanor worn away - it was that same face as when he discovered Guys was collaborating against him. Guildias pulled out a rusty, bent shiv from his pocket and attempted to stab Durer with it. They deadlocked with the shiv.

Meanwhile, Myuca walked right toward Bollanet, as he was seated at the desk. Bollanet now looked at him lasciviously, rather than indifferently. He normally dismissed visitors like this as unavailable to him unless they served some political advantage, or he could assuredly trust them to keep quiet. Election month was right around the corner, he didn't need some scandal on his hands.

But Myuca had it in for Guildias, not him. Bollanet was already hard while seated there in the chair. He now looked at the boy as if he were some delicious little morsel waiting to be consumed, the last such thing on Earth. Myuca climbed right on top of the fat man, his tiny body cushioned by Bollanet's large stomach. Despite the sliminess of the man, Myuca thought to himself, he was very well-dressed. He had on, like always, an expensive, multi-layer suit typical of the snobby French aristocracy, complete with the short suit jacket and pocket watch. Only now did Bollanet put the glass of wine down, with a perverted smile, muttering something about how cute the boy was. Then Myuca just started kissing the side of his face. His cheek, then his ear, then he started using tongue. He grazed against the man's blond sideburns and avoided knocking against those little glasses. Although, he never did, and never would he kiss Bollanet on the mouth. 

All the same, Bollanet was exceedingly pleased with this. He started to feel up Myuca's sides and his slim chest, and stuck his tongue in Myuca's ear, and he was exceedingly good with his tongue. Myuca finally let out a gasp, which got Durer and Guildias's attention. immediately they stopped in their tracks with the fighting and looked over to the mismatched couple. There was something obscene, indeed, in seeing someone like Myuca climbing on top of a disgusting old pervert like Bollanet like that. Guildias imagined, although it was not really correct, that no one ever fucked Bollanet willingly. Durer looked at it like it was Sunday's pall-mall game.

"Does this bother you?" Durer said to Guildias.

Guildias seethed. "I'll kill you... Both of you..." 

His little Myuca, sweet little cherub angel, being willingly defiled by a slimy old man, the father of someone he so hated, no less. There was no question, he had to stop it from happening. He then immediately abandoned his interest in Durer and started toward Bollanet and Myuca hurriedly with the shiv. Durer reacted immediately, grabbing him from behind and continued with wresting the shiv out of his hand. If he foresaw this kind of a struggle, he would have made Alphonse or the other guard stay. With just Durer alone, it was becoming difficult to subdue someone like Guildias when so enraged. Finally Durer got the upper hand, grabbing the baton and striking Guildias with it a few times. While the man was subdued, Durer pulled out the thick, steel handcuffs from one of the cabinets and clamored over to Guildias. It was a difficult struggle, but Durer cuffed the man's hands behind him, and looped the chain through and around the cabinet door handle behind him, since it was the only thing really available.

Durer sighed in relief, breathing heavily from all the exertion. "There. Now, sit tight and you enjoy yourself." Durer then got up and started actually doing some office work while all this was going on. To the observer, it was odd, but that's what he had to do, and having his father copulate with some pretty-boy in the room wasn't going to stop him. Could this not be the first time he and Bollanet pulled off this kind of stint? 

Still on Bollanet's lap, Myuca pressed himself against the man's round stomach. They were both still fully clothed but, in truth, it looked incredibly obscene. Myuca flushed red. Bollanet had this sweaty, perverted expression which defied description. Bollanet's hands groped down his back, and every inch of his ass, and the rest of his tiny body. Myuca was so trim and small it made Bollanet's hands look huge in comparison. They did fill out those expensive gloves quite nicely. He held Myuca close, kissed his neck and couldn't resist grabbing his ass. For Bollanet, it was glorious- he would have to savor every moment of this. It was a rare treat indeed to enjoy someone this pretty, something Guildias himself missed out on. He slid a finger down against Myuca's crack, even through the clothes, nudging his thumb against where the hole felt like it was, over and over, while groping up his thigh with the other hand. There was no actual penetration, but this seemed to drive the young man crazy. Finally, Myuca went on to move things further - he put Bollanet's hand on his dick. Through those nice dress pants, it was difficult to see whether Myuca was hard, but now Bollanet could definitely feel it, pushing mindlessly against the man's big stomach. It nearly disheveled Bollanet's ruffly white shirt and suit-vest, but then again, everything was buttoned up pretty tightly somehow. Durer could never know who to pity more, Guildias right now, or those overworked buttons. 

The hot breath on his neck had just the faintest smell of red wine. It felt affectionate, although it was not- it was the basest kind of sexual longing. Then Myuca took Bollanet's gloved hand, and put it right on his crotch, still thrusting his body against the fat man. Bollanet then started stroking him, still through the pants, while still kissing his neck and tonguing his ear. Myuca was now fully hard and his erection strained painfully down his pants to one side. The fingers running up and down the front of his clothed dick were too gentle. The pre-come leaking out of his dick made it feel better, but everything was still muted under the weighty fabric of his trousers. It only teased Myuca and left him wanting more. He wanted those fat fingers inside of him, or wrapped around his dick, or anything. It took all the control in the world not to reach his hand down his pants and start jacking off right here and now. Myuca's youth afforded him a lot more energy than the others. Bollanet didn't seem to move as quickly as he wanted him to. Myuca started unbuttoning his own long-sleeved, white blouse. 

One by one, the buttons came undone and he pulled the shirt open, although he left it on. Myuca's chest was lean and beautiful, as perfect as the rest of him. How someone like that would find their way into Bollanet's lap, it was hard to understand. Bollanet looked at Myuca wantonly, licked his lips, but pulled back.

"Why don't you take these off, too. Let me see everything.", he indicated Myuca's trousers, while grabbing Myuca's behind and running his fingers up along his erect dick, as if to reinforce the point. The pants were constraining his erection and Myuca was getting really bothered by it. Myuca removed himself from the fat man's lap, and without hesitation pulled down his pants, in search of sweet, sweet relief. He had lost track of how long he'd been hard. His dick popped right out, swollen red and the tip was wet. And Bollanet didn't know this, but his ass was already a bit slicked up from the preparation before he came here. He stood right there, unabashedly subjecting himself to Bollanet's gaze, frustrated by the empty air's lack of gratification. He forwent touching himself, in order to maintain some semblance of dignity. Normally the cold air would get to him, but the feeling of being ogled like this only increased his desire. He knew that Guildias was looking at him, too.

Durer, on the other hand, was completely ignoring all of the festivities in the room, and instead was rummaging around some old papers, in the other far cabinet. His job always involved some level of office work and this was a good a time as any. Guildias was still against the wall, unable to accept what he was seeing.

Bollanet looked at Myuca up and down. "Ah, the energy and beauty of youth. Fantastic." Myuca didn't know what part of his body would grab the pervert's attention first. Bollanet turned Myuca around, facing away from him - so it was his ass, then. Now Bollanet saw it for the first time. He nudged Myuca's thighs apart just a little for a better view. It was perfect. Small and toned, but not too small. His gloved hands grabbed at Myuca's ass cheeks and gently held them apart, utterly exposing him. Even that part of him was perfect. Bollanet stroked the inner parts of Myuca's ass cheeks, letting go and then holding them open again, it seemed to really hold his fascination. Myuca wouldn't know this, but all this was a lot like one of Durer's cavity searches. He ran a finger over Myuca's prone, exposed hole, closely examining how perfect, clean and pink it was, imagining what ungodly things he would do with it. 

"Why, this is the tightest, neatest I've ever seen. How on earth can you even fit anything inside there?" Unable to resist, he went in face-first and started tonguing him. Bollanet braced against Myuca by grabbing his balls and the base of his dick. The tongue slid in and out, wet and disgusting. 

Myuca felt himself getting so turned on he was weak in the knees. There was something so disturbing about it, coming from someone as awful as Bollanet, but that somehow turned him on even more. It was frustrating because through all this, his ass felt so wet and ready and loose, his dick wasn't getting any attention. Bollanet continued to eat him through and through, toying with his balls, and that was it. It was the biggest tease in the world. Myuca wanted something- to get fucked, basically, it didn't matter how- if only so that he could get off right then and there. But he had too much dignity to just start jerking off, and then his plan would end too soon. All he could do was stand there and endure it. Bollanet ordered the young man to bend over the desk and give him a better view, which he did. This was really typical of him- he was more the type to give a humiliating order than to force people down with his hands. Now with both hands down on the desk, Myuca let the pervert tongue him with abandon. His fingers touched Myuca all over- sometimes he would brush against the young man's hole, or keep prying him apart, or grab his nipples and flick them relentlessly, sometimes he would play with his balls but leave his neglected dick. For someone so cruel and disgusting, Bollanet was very good at what he does, and he had accomplished a lot of sex in his lifetime. Through his disgust, Myuca never expected it to feel quite like this.

All this time, Guildias was still in the room with them, tethered to the cabinet and unable to leave. The sight in front of him was horrifying. There was no escape. As for Durer, he finally found the piece of paper he was searching for. It proved to be a form, something really dry documenting a prisoner from one category that should be moved to a different category, or something along those lines. He filled it out, in its entirety, right in that same room as his own father was fooling around with their visitor. Now that work was done and he was about to leave for his shift. However, he gave Guildias a word on his way out.

"Is this how you thought it would be like, Monsieur? The day you deflower your little Myuca? Don't underestimate Bollanet's stamina. He may have a few years on everyone else, but he can do this over, and over, and over. Trust me."

Guildias couldn't bear much more of this. He was completely lost in a jealous rage. In actuality, nobody knew whether Myuca was, in fact, a virgin. Guildias simply assumed it, after he laid claim to him. But who could prove it either way. It didn't really matter any more, though. For Durer's purposes, it was proving to be an incredibly useful tool for pushing Guildias's buttons.

"I would really like to stay longer here. However, my duty calls. So unfortunate. If you'll excuse me, detective." Durer cheerily bid goodbye with those poison-laced words and left Guildias in the room, facing the worst thing he had ever seen.

Bollanet finally got up away from sticking his tongue in Myuca. He tidied the spit off his mouth with a fancy handkerchief, then got up and sat back on his chair. Now the pervert was fully hard, obvious from the tent in his pants. He clearly got off on what he was doing to Myuca, no question. Bollanet unbuttoned his own fly and let his dick right out. It was fat like the rest of him. 

Myuca didn't need to be told. He clamored toward the round man, grabbed his shoulders, and climbed on top of him. He grabbed at the collar of Bollanet's suit-jacket to get leverage. At first it occurred to Myuca that the man's stomach might get in the way, but Bollanet was shifted in the chair such that it didn't matter. Over the years Bollanet had fucked so many people like that he had it down to an art. He was like one of those dirty, old play producers that the actors had to gratify in order to get a part. Sitting in the chair was his favorite. Myuca's ass was so wet and loosened up, it slid right in. For Myuca, it was the exact sensation he wanted. It was perfect. Provided he didn't look in front of him, of course. Myuca felt new blood surge through him and his dick twitched at the newfound sensation. Bollanet let out a deep, perverted gasp. It was still so much tighter than he imagined, impossibly so. And then Myuca started to ride him. Bollanet thrusted upward at the same time.

It was unbearable, watching this. Guildias never felt such contempt for anyone, that level of betrayal, this was so disgusting, and with someone as despicable as Bollanet. The whole world was crashing down. Yet through the haze of anger there was this persistant, unstoppable arousal. His anger looked strange as there was a really obvious bulge in his pants. Even if his hands weren't chained, he wouldn't do anything about it. Because if his hands weren't chained, he would be busy killing the both of them then and there.

Bollanet was really taking his time with Myuca. He pushed into him slowly, almost too slowly, and only teased at Myuca's dick rather than full on jerking him off. This was one of those things in which Bollanet and Durer were different. When Durer was fucking someone, he would literally tear into them, wasting no time at all, then inflict as much damage as possible, and mindlessly use them to his heart's content. It varied a little, but that was generally it. He was hot-tempered and that attitude carried over to sex like it did everything else. He had always been this way. Bollanet, on the other hand, took things slower, savoring each moment as much as possible, reducing the other person to a pliant pile of jelly under his fingers. They would never get off again without thinking back to that disgusting moment, he would make sure of it. There was still no passion behind it, no love, only lust and perversion. His sense of brutality was a bit different from his son's. 

Myuca grabbed at the corpulent man's suit jacket and tie, and buried his head against Bollanet's shoulder, trying to get as hard a ride as possible. So far it felt wonderful. But he needed more. All he could think about was the dick inside him, hitting all the right places over and over, and the man's gloved hand toying with his dick. He was caught between pushing himself downward onto the man's lap and thrusting forward into his hand. His arousal had long fully eclipsed his contempt for the corrupt politician. How strange how much this differed from his expectations. Before consulting with the prison correspondent, when Myuca first had this idea, he thought of it as a sort of awkward hardship he would have to undergo in order to find his revenge. Even if he could enjoy it physically, he didn't want to look at the man's face. Back then he was uncertain he could get off on it at all. But this was paradise. He didn't know which he liked more, Bollanet's fat fingers or his dick. 

Bollanet was enjoying how the young man clung to him, pulling his body so close, and tried to go faster, and pull the dirty old man in as much as possible. He was putting a lot of effort into it. Bollanet leered, "You have a tight little body. Simply delightful."

Guildias felt physically sick. He didn't know how much more of this he could bear. This whole thing was awful, but Bollanet's dirty talk was icing on the cake. That should have been him, taking Myuca in his arms like that. It should have been him, taking control of Myuca's body. Seizing that innocence. He wasn't even sure if it was there to begin with, anymore. He didn't want to look at the spectacle. 

And yet, he could not look away.

Myuca clung to the fat politician, impaling himself. With his delicate arms tight around Bollanet's shoulders, he pulled their bodies as flush- at least, as flush as possible- and kept going. Bollanet wasn't one to get kissy, but he licked Myuca's neck and stuck his tongue in Myuca's ear like before. Somehow, Bollanet was able to maintain his hold on Myuca's dick trapped between them. Now instead of just teasing him, the fat man just stroked the whole shaft up and down with his thumb and index finger only. He slid his fingers over the head every time. Myuca had never been this hard in his life. The way he was being touched, it was just how he liked it, although it was too light and slow. Some pre-come leaked out, the man's fingers smeared it over the tip. The treatment was so gentle, a bit more and he could get all the way off, but Bollanet wasn't giving it to him. Myuca involuntarily thrusted forward to try and get more, but couldn't. Instead, all he could freely do was pull the man's fat dick deep inside, pleasuring Bollanet but making himself sore.

He gripped Bollanet's suit jacket collar, bracing himself, no longer caring that he was doing all the work. Bollanet was taking the time to really savor Myuca's desperation. Now, it wouldn't have looked as vile if it were someone else. Normally, Bollanet was the type of person who gave people the creeps just by talking to them. He really was an incurable pervert, leering at crotches and asses of anyone in the same room. Myuca was one of the types he would lust over. Now, in the middle of actively fucking someone, there was nothing more repugnant. Bollanet practically salivated. Beads of sweat formed on his brow, he breathed heavily and had this fixed, horribly perverted expression. Myuca was completely at his mercy, letting Bollanet examine his body, touch him all over, and penetrate him.

Myuca was trying to get all the way off, but it was difficult because of how lazily Bollanet kept touching him. The fat official was really interested in taking his time and teasing away at him. Bollanet would be fucking someone like that all day if he could. And it worked. Myuca sped up the pace and pushed Bollanet into him harder and as deep inside as possible, enough to feel it for a couple days at least. For now, he didn't care if it hurt. He was getting everything he set out for- amends, gratification however vulgar, and the confrontation with Guildias.

"Ohohoh, why, you are an energetic one, aren't you." Bollanet chortled. 

If anything, Bollanet had a lot of stamina, probably more than the younger man. He was still fully hard, but still simply relaxed in the chair and let Myuca service him. He wasn't one to start taking control and trying to get it over with. Myuca's little body slid up and around his dick so nicely. His dick jutted out, untouched. Bollanet could simply watch it with satisfaction, unsurprised that Myuca was so desperate to get fucked by him. It always ended this way- even though so many people were repulsed by Bollanet's appearance, in the end, no one could resist his touch. It was just too good- at least, in his own opinion. Myuca was becoming desperate to get all the way off. His erection was becoming painful, and neglected. He lost track of how long it had been that they were making Guildias suffer. Myuca then, decided to try something. He shifted the angle between them just a bit. In this position, he could make himself as tight as possible, and the man lodged inside him could definitely feel it. He felt Bollanet's fat dick twitch inside.

"W-why, it's almost painful... Delightfully shameless." Bollanet's breathing was staggered. He shakily fidgeted with his necktie. It was obvious he was close to the edge. He groaned. It was not glamorous. "Always the most innocent ones, the ones one would least suspect... T-turn out to be the dirtiest little things... How much do you want it? Having my seed, inside your cute little body..."

"Please, I want it." Myuca wasn't done, but he wasn't thinking in those terms. He wanted to really give Guildias something to remember.

Bollanet lodged his member deep into Myuca, and held him there with his gloved hands at Myuca's torso and shoulder. Myuca tried to continue moving but he was held firmly down in place. He was held there, legs still open, and he was firmly impaled on every inch of Bollanet. Bollanet was going to have him ride it all the way out, and come inside of him. Myuca wanted Bollanet to finally touch his dick, anything, his hard-on ached so much. It would have to wait. He felt the fat member lodged inside of him start to spasm. Then, the fluid being pushed into him. There was so much force behind the ejaculation, he could feel the seed force itself up inside of him. The same seed that produced Durer. It was disgusting and hot.

Myuca had never been so turned on, even though he felt no warmth, no affection toward Bollanet whatsoever. 

"Your body, I must say, it's ever so remarkable. Let me see. " Bollanet brought Myuca up, and Myuca stood, while Bollanet watched with satisfaction his own seed drip down and out of the young man's desecrated entrance. And yet, even after all this, Bollanet was still slightly hard. "Now, if you won't give me something delicious of yours..."

He pulled Myuca's slender hips toward him, with his hard dick still jutting forward, in front of the older man's face. Only finally, now, Bollanet gripped it firmly and started stroking him so that Myuca could really feel it. Involuntarily Myuca thrust his hips a little bit forward. He wasn't sure what Bollanet wanted a better view for, but it didn't matter. But then, Bollanet started licking the head of Myuca's dick. So it was for easy access to his tongue. Bollanet just licked the head, it was light and gentle, while toying with Myuca's balls. Then he finally removed his right-hand glove, and slid one of his bare finger right into Myuca's loosened-up entrance. With his left hand, he kept flicking at Myuca's nipple, over and over, and grabbing at it- it wasn't enough to be painful, it felt annoying somehow but it was extremely hot. Myuca felt like he was going to go crazy. He wanted more, but didn't know how long he could last. 

Finally and abruptly, he took all of Myuca's dick, right to the base, in his mouth. Now it made some sense where Bollanet got his ego from. He was exceedingly good at this. It was more pleasure than Myuca could have ever imagined, in sex by himself, with someone else, it didn't matter. His dick fit in the older man's mouth so perfectly, and he sucked it with abandon. He worked his tongue all the way around Myuca, while it slid in and out. He poked his tongue in the slit and went in for every curve on the head. Bollanet's tongue was somehow even better than his fingers. Even with Myuca's whole shaft in the man's mouth, he could lick down the bottom and reach the spot just underneath his balls. There was no denying it, Bollanet knew his way around a dick. Myuca could hardly understand it. 

Myuca was immersed in something warm and wet and perfect. There was nothing else he could think of, he was lost in another world from which there was no return. At this rate he was going to come embarassingly soon, it was just too much to handle. It was the most amazing head he could have ever imagined. He kept his hands at his sides, while Bollanet's hands alternated between molesting him and simply grabbing his hips. Bollanet devoured Myuca's dick. He, too, appeared lost in pleasure, savoring Myuca inside his mouth. He savoring it like a delicious piece of candy, dipping his tongue around it everywhere, maintaining a hard suction on the whole thing. The slurping noises were disgusting. 

Guildias had long zoned out, trying to blank the image from his mind. Maybe if he completely shut down, he could forget. If only he could play pretend as if this wasn't really happening. It was impossible though. He wanted to murder Bollanet then and there. As for Myuca, he didn't even know anymore. Guildias was driven crazy in confused lust. And even through all his range and disgust, his erection ached terribly. With his hands tethered there wasn't much he could do about it, and not that he would want to- he would not sully himself to masturbate to anything involving a creature so vile as Bollanet. He would sooner die. 

But the spectacle in front of him- there was no way to prepare himself for. Myuca was right there, balls-deep in the fat, balding minister of the police. He used to think that things made sense. Even for all his faults and what he did in the past. No. There was no innocence in this world. 

Finally, Myuca was pushed over the edge. Bollanet kept Myuca's dick fully encased in his mouth and sucked on him relentlessly. Myuca felt his whole body tighten and he started to orgasm. He started to try and say something, but the words wouldn't make it out. Bollanet knew, though. Myuca's semen left his body and Bollanet sucked it right out, milking his dick. The man's tongue lapped up every little bit. Even in the next moment, more spurts shot out, Bollanet kept Myuca's dick fully in his mouth and swallowed every last drop, keeping a hard suction the entire time. He sucked Myuca all the way off, and even after Myuca's orgasm, he kept sucking away at him, sliding his tongue in to get everything there was. 

Only several moments later, Myuca's dick was completely spent. Only then, they separated. Myuca took a moment to catch his breath, and start reaching for his clothes. Bollanet zipped up his fly while sitting up, and cleaned off his hands and mouth with a handkerchief, like someone who just finished a delicious meal.

Then, a knock at the door.

Durer walked in, baton in hand, back from his shift. He ignored Myuca and Bollanet as if nothing interesting was going on, and the chain tethering Guildias to the cabinet. Instead he went toward the far desk where he was before. "Detective! Fancy seeing you here, this fine evening." He dug through one of the filing cabinets to get the punch-out form for cell inspections. "Did I miss anything?"

"Durer..."

Guildias glowered. Durer could get used to this. He came right up to Guildias, unafraid, and put his arm around him as if he were an old friend. It was a bold move, really, considering what a loose cannon the man was even in normal circumstances. Durer replicated that exact moment from before, where Guildias did the exact same thing to him, putting his arm around him as he was being assaulted by a mob of prisoners. There was something oddly satisfying about it all. 

He treated Guildias with mock sympathy. "Come on, it can't be all bad." Durer's eyes scanned downwards, and took sight of the really obvious tent formed in Guildias's trousers. He chuckled. "Well, will you look at that." Durer reached toward Guildias's crotch. "Maybe you enjoyed this." 

Guildias seized up and violently yanked himself away. "DON'T TOUCH ME!!" He seethed, enraged more than ever before. 

"Fine, fine. Anyway, visitation is over. We're going back."

Myuca, in the meanwhile, bade the minister of police goodbye and took his leave, thanking them both for a most amiable visit. He got exactly what he wanted and then some. Bollanet didn't dare try to detain him, but wrote this off as a very good day. 

Guildias, on the other hand, was in a conflicted state of being. He didn't know how to reconcile everything he knew about the world anymore. He wanted to shut Myuca entirely out of his mind, out of his world. It went from a simple obsession to an irreconcilable disgust. It went beyond killing him, at this point. It was something else entirely. He didn't really know what he wanted from Myuca anymore. All the same, the physical sickness was getting to him. Even more, the unbearable sense of grief was as strong as his arousal.

As promised, Durer untethered Guildias from the cabinet. Feeling like a complete gentlemen for not inflicting worse on him, he brought him back away from the minister's office, through the hallway from the far wing, back to the main holding areas. 

Guildias could have tried to lash out at Durer now. He could physically fight back, he could have told Durer off. But it was past that point. He took all his anger, put it in a box, and pushed it to the very back of his mind. Guildias was a two-faced creature, and that was exactly how. Now, there was nothing more to say. Maybe he could wait for all this to subside. Maybe all he had to do was wait. This wasn't the time, he was not equipped to really do anything. There were greater things for him to contend with than the simple fact of imprisonment. How could he channel all his desires, his dreams into one thing like that, only to never realize them? How could it slip away so easily? But there was still time. He would make sense of it all somehow.


	4. Chapter 4

No matter what happened here in prison, Guildias's ambitions were the same. He wasn't about to be thwarted by what he found out that day. About the arrest, and about Myuca. That little piece of information changed nothing. That was- the definitive proof that Myuca was alive. He stayed resolute as ever, to try and escape this hellhole. 

Locked up, he had time to spend thinking about it. The fact that Myuca survived Guildias's violence back in that mansion was nothing short of a miracle. He should have been overjoyed to find all this out. But, there was a catch. It permanently changed Myuca. Guildias suspected it ever since the first meeting with Durer, and now he knew for sure. There was nothing between them anymore. He couldn't trust Myuca to keep quiet. If word ever got out about what really happened- his attempt on Myuca's life- Guildias would be a dead man. With Myuca alive and no longer under Guildias's control, Guildias was one false step away from a death sentence. He needed to be rational about this, consider all the possibilities, and not agitate the situation any further. It would be better if they never saw each other again.

It could be that, given enough time, Myuca could have seen Guildias's true nature anyway. Myuca's sweet little heart wasn't the same after they found him. As far as the boy was concerned now, it didn't even matter whether Guildias was a free man.

He wanted so badly to reassure himself that Myuca was replaceable. Even now that he was closer to the appeal, nothing helped. It wasn't even really about the two of them, anymore. Guildias knew the sort of thing he wanted, there were no doubts about that. But forced sex in this prison would never be enough for him, and Myuca was no longer an option. He would just have to stay focused forward. The re-trial was happening soon and that was the most important thing.

Today, Guildias looked dapper in his nicely-pressed, familiar work suit. They permitted him to get cleaned up and look presentable for his court date, a special privilege usually only given out to offenders with money or power. Or, especially Guildias's case- connections with people in the court system. 

The very first part of his trial was unexciting. There were some opening remarks from his lawyer, and the federal prosecutor, an insufferable older gentleman who was very wordy and bored everyone half to sleep. Yes, it was the exact same courthouse as Guys's trial, and Guildias's own first trial. That same stuffy old judge in a powdered wig. Being a detective, this was once one of his most frequent places of work. Now, Guildias grew to hate the place and the people in it. All his assumptions about how to manipulate the proceedings came crashing down when Guys's trial ended in an acquittal. For his own case, he must not make the same mistake. Although, things were steadily progressing out of his own hands and into the hands of his lawyer.

The trial was to continue for several more days. It was far too early to speculate anything. For now, he and everyone else was dismissed. The armed prison escorts brought him along by the arm, and they transported him back to the prison facility. The process was slow. It would be several days until the next hearing. 

By the time they made it back, it was well into the evening. It was already dark, since it was early in the spring season. Moonlight peered through the gated windows and onto the cement floor below. Here, he expected to be greeted by the night shift guard. But instead of seeing Alphonse, he saw Durer.

"So good of you to be back, Mr. Detective."

"Durer." The guard looked smug as usual. Guildias glowered. "Don't you have some deranged transvestite to go visit?"

"And here I thought we could have a conversation. You know, about economics, politics, foreign policy. Affairs of the state."

"Take me back in."

"There's something I have to show you first. Believe me, it's something you'll want to see." Guildias glared in contempt. He knew the guard was always going to lie to him. He had no desire or energy for any more of Durer's nonsense. But there wasn't much choice. He went along with Durer regardless. Durer didn't drag him this time. Guildias was out of the cuffs, for now, as well. He was clever enough to know the consequences for breaking a run for it. 

They walked along the corridor, the same one they crossed in the beginning of all this. The detective could enjoy, here, the small and temporary luxury of wearing his suit. He was still dressed for his visit to the courtroom. He was indeed quite handsome when dressed properly. Some prisoners on chore duty passed by them with buckets of water. Their plain and simple clothes gave them away as normal inmates, a sharp contrast to how Guildias looked. Guildias didn't pity them. For the time being, he felt a sense of superiority to the inmates here. Although, he knew inwardly that he was a prisoner, and no different. It would be an uphill struggle to find his way out of all this, if there was even any hope at all.

Guildias never had the introspection to ever think his behavior toward Guys or Myuca was wrong. He was clever, but perhaps too clever for his own good. When he tried to take advantage of Myuca, and took advantage of Guys, it may have seemed, to them, that he was acting out of passion. And maybe, in a tiny way, he was. That spark deep inside was still there, despite everything that damaged him in the past. But it wasn't love. It was something that satisfied a certain addiction. The violence he committed came from that same place. At the time of copulating with someone, he would feel a type of attraction to them. It was something deeper than a purely physical act. And still, it wasn't love. He never understood Myuca as a person separate from himself, or anything other than an object. Guildias was so tightly wrapped up in this fantasy. Since he wasn't capable of loving anyone except himself, the future may as well be already decided.

They arrived at the end of the hallway, and turned down the far concrete stairway. Guildias knew this place too well. This was the sole pathway down to what was known as the 'dungeon'. It was famous for a lot of things. A punishment cell, and interrogation room. A place of entertainment for Durer and Bollanet. It would so be easy for Durer to kill him here, and to hide his body. There were ways of thwarting Durer, though. He kept his face expressionless, and hid his concern away.

"This way."

Durer pulled Guildias into one of the smaller questioning rooms. It was mostly bare, with concrete floors and large coarse bricks lining the walls. Durer lit a lantern in the corner. "I wanted to make sure we stay out of earshot of the other prisoners, or any of the guards."

"What is this about?"

"A proposition for you, detective." Durer had a small smile and leaned against the wall, looking back out to verify no one was coming down.

"I'm listening."

"As you know, your appeal is coming up over the next few weeks. And it will be up to you and your lawyer to disseminate the right information for your case."

"Yes."

"That's all well and good. But as it stands, your case intersects with some- let's call it- sensitive information. This information has swayed the attention of my father, the minister of the police."

"What of it?"

"My proposition to you, is that you discard that information. Just pretend it doesn't exist. Get your lawyer on board. Do that, and it will be all the better for you. Bollanet has a plan in all the trials, and he will know what gets said."

"How much are we talking about?"

"All of it. The wheat smuggling, the tax evasion, the black market dealings, Vallewida. Everything."

"Absolutely not. I'll lose the case." Guildias frowned. A lot of this could have been surfaced during Guys's trial, but it didn't. Bollanet and his associates got off lucky. For Guildias's re-trial, much of his argument hinged on Vallewida's testimony being upheld as reliable. It meant shifting some of the blame away from Guildias and toward Bollanet, alleging that Bollanet was working to keep people- and in particular, Guys- in prison in order to conceal these scandals, and that contributed more to Guys's imprisonment than Guildias's direct actions. It was true, to an extent, although they both had a finger in that pie. "And what about what Bollanet did to Guys?"

"That, too. It needs to stay quiet."

"I can't promise you that."

"Do you need some persuasion?"

"This conversation is over."

"Come on..." Durer grabbed Guildias by the necktie and yanked him forward. "Sounds like you want it, then." Using the tie as leverage, he shoved Guildias against the wall. With the other hand, he grabbed an edge of Guildias's suit vest and practically body-slammed into him. So Durer was going to give him a beating for all this, in exchange for a promise of silence. For Guildias, the issue was very simple. He didn't want to negotiate with the jailer, or anyone in league with Bollanet. The case was difficult enough as it was, and they needed every last piece of evidence that would work in his favor. This 'proposition' wasn't remotely some fair exchange of one favor for another- Durer was threatening him to keep quiet, all on Bollanet's behalf. Should have seen this coming.

"Is that the only god damned thing you know how to do?! You go and bludgeon someone down until they'll agree to say one thing or do another. You're a pathetic, brain-dead brute, you don't deserve the life you have." 

"Hey, hey..."

Guildias was having none of this and took a swing at Durer. With Durer's hold on his tie and vest Guildias wasn't able to do much else. It connected with Durer's neck instead of his head, but the impact was lessened by Guildias's inability to get any leverage. Durer slammed Guildias into the wall once more. It made noise but did little actual damage, and it did little to subdue him. Guildias, in a panic, swiped his arm across Durer's face which perfectly gashed him across the eyes. In that moment, Durer couldn't see, and brought his hand up to cover his eyes. Guildias used that moment to try and get out of there. If he could lock Durer down there, he could buy some time before deciding what to do next. 

But, as Guildias tried it, the door was locked behind him. He muttered some curse words. Durer could see once more, and this struggle now had him all fired up. Guildias turned toward Durer to try and get the upper hand in this, or find some other way out of this mess. Durer lunged swiftly toward Guildias, too quickly to be stopped, and delivered a sound right hook to the other man's abdomen. Guildias was completely winded. He collapsed right against Durer's fist. It wasn't near enough to knock him out, but it stunned him and now his body felt weak and limp. Durer used the fist to push Guildias's weak body against the wall with no resistance.

While Guildias was still winded and trying to recover from that massive uppercut, Durer pulled some metal handcuffs from his belt. He swiftly cuffed Guildias's right hand to a metal latch on the wall. Guildias, catching his breath, didn't even notice until it was too late.

Durer grinned, triumphant. Now, finally, he had completely free reign of things. He looked at Guildias up and down, iterating over different things in his head. Finally, he pressed his body into Guildias, still trapped between Durer and the wall. He loved the ego trip of hearing the man wheezing, catching his breath. Durer's demeanor seemed to change into something much gentler than before. Then with one hand he pressed Guildias's shoulder back. With the other he grabbed Guildias's thigh. He leaned in close, far too close to comfort, and Guildias felt the man's breath tingling on his neck. Durer whispered into Guildias's ear seductively.

"I was going to save you for my father."

"You... what?"

"You've never had it done to you before, have you? Never did look like the type." He grabbed Guildias's ass roughly. Now Durer was no longer threatening to hurt him, but Guildias looked more uncomfortable than ever and turned several shades more pale. Surely, he wouldn't. No, it was impossible. "Normally you wouldn't be my type, either, but I'll easily make a special exception for such a difficult scoundrel like you. Maybe you'll discover your true nature. See, Bollanet wanted to be the first one that ever does anything to you. You know, breaks you in. But I don't think I can resist."

"DURER, YOU'RE GOING TO UNHAND ME THIS INSTANT."

"What's wrong, Monsieur? Oh, I understand. You wish that young thing, your little muse was here. I suppose I'm a bit bigger than him. Don't worry. You'll enjoy this so much, I'll make you forget all about him."

Guildias felt physically ill. He struggled, attempting to free his one chained arm but it was no use. First, Durer had to be making some kind of sick joke, implying that Bollanet would try anything like that with him. He would never, never allow it. In fact, he had to dismiss it as physically impossible. Now as for the son, Guildias knew Durer was capable of anything, but never foresaw Durer trying to violate him like this. He had no right to even talk about Myuca that way, as if that was something he could even begin to understand. 

He was out of options for fighting back. Now Durer now took the time to really cop a feel, sticking his hands all over every corner of Guildias's clothed body, messing up the detective's pristine suit. He already looked disheveled, with his tie half untucked and jacket half off. Durer wrenched the suit jacket all the way off so it hung off of Guildias's cuffed hand. Guildias used his free hand to push his glasses back onto his nose, glaring angrily. He would have continued trying to fight back with his one free hand, but it was his left hand and he had resigned that it was no use. Durer ran his hands all around Guildias's crotch, up his back pocket and the insides of the man's thighs through the trousers. 

"Does this excite you? No?" It didn't. Guildias was really obviously uninterested. Durer was not easily defeated. He unbuttoned Guildias's fly and stuck his hand right in, to stroke the other man's member up and down through the underwear. Durer was gentle, but used enough pressure so that Guildias should definitely feel something. Seeing as that didn't cause any reaction, Durer pulled down Guildias's member right out from the confines of his underwear. He spat into his hand and jerked off Guildias's soft dick. He smoothed it all over and went a bit faster. But through all this, Guildias stayed completely flaccid.

"You don't like it." Guildias was still too furious to even speak. It didn't concern Durer too much either way whether he reacted physically. Durer thought he could provoke a reaction out of Guildias, but even if he couldn't, it changed nothing. Durer could still use Guildias's body for his own purposes. "You'll come around. Say, I was quite surprised when he told me he was interested in you. Our Security Minister usually goes for the younger, daintier type. Girls, in fact. He's similar to you in that sense, no?"

Guildias glowered. It was humiliating to be subjected to Durer's hands like this. And now to be compared to that fat, awful waste of space. And to derogate the half of his immortal soul, his passion, his devotion to Myuca. Durer didn't even have the right to talk about these matters. They were things he couldn't begin to understand. 

The disturbing truth was, Durer didn't even care whether he could ultimately get off on what he was doing. While he intended to use Guildias for sex, his thinking now was channeled even more by revenge than desire. And when Bollanet had talked about what he would do to Guildias, he was referring to the exact same thing. It didn't even matter whether Bollanet was attracted to Guildias or not. He might, or might not, either way it changed nothing. Guildias was getting a taste of his own medicine. The attack on Durer with the mob, in the prison cell, fit the exact same description. It meant that he gravely underestimated Durer.

Durer turned Guildias around so that he could press against the detective's back, and so Guildias's front was pressed against the wall. He groped Guildias's ass, feeling through his underwear, sliding his hands up inside his shirt, and started unbuttoning Guildias's vest. Guildias blanched at the thought of what could come next. It seemed more real than before. It was hard not to be distracted by what the jailer was doing, but Guildias could keep a clear head. He looked around, and then he saw it. Where the handcuff was tethered to the latch - the latch didn't go all the way around. There was a very small gap, and if he could move the other end of the handcuffs enough he might just free his arm. He had to try it. Guildias moved a bit to the right so that his body was covering where the handcuff was joined with the latch, and blocked Durer's line of sight. Durer mindlessly followed the chained man, still groping him. It looked like a halfhearted escape attempt, which didn't worry Durer too much. Durer continued to push Guildias against the wall, and now he licked the back of his neck. Guildias cringed in pure disgust. But he kept forward- maybe, with enough trying at the latch, he could free it. 

Finally, it was there. Guildias freed his arm, but he put forth the charade that he was still cuffed to the wall. Durer was too focused on Guildias's body to see anything that was going on, but now Guildias's plan was falling into place. With his left, and supposedly free hand, he reached into a secret inner pocket of his suit vest. His hidden, retractable shiv. It was embedded so well in the vest that they didn't even find it when they confiscated all his things. It was very difficult to extract, and took an extra moment to extend it out. He had no time to do all this in the scuffle before. But now, with the jailer adequately distracted, it was possible. He ruptured the stitching that kept it in place, pulled it out, and engaged it.

Durer brought his hips against Guildias from behind, as if fucking him through their clothes. His hands still groped all along Guildias's front and his crotch. The more the other man struggled, the more he enjoyed it. As Guildias seemed to halfheartedly move away, or cover himself, Durer would simply follow him and continue what he was doing all the same. Durer found himself getting hard and wanted to move this along. He loved having someone that he could just use to his whims, in this way, and Guildias wasn't just your average inmate. If he took Guildias, he wanted to make it hurt. This was quickly becoming a personal exchange between them. It wasn't even about the trial proposal anymore. 

His expression, perverted and lost in all this, suddenly changed. His voice cracked. There was a surge of awful pain taking hold, wracking his shoulderblade, veering his mind away from what was in front of him. 

"AAAAAGH!" 

The pain came all at once. Durer collapsed down, immobilized. Guildias pulled out the small shiv, leaving a nasty stab wound. It wouldn't be anything that could kill a person, but it was quite sharp and completely caught him off guard. Guildias knew the small tool so well, would have used it in his little project with Guys, that is, if he could actually bear to part with it to leave as planted evidence. He had time to twist it in a little before Durer even reacted. The blood seeped right through into his uniform. In the blue color of the fabric, the blood looked black. Durer flung himself away from Guildias, and writhed around on the ground in agony. 

The stab wound was not deep enough to be deadly, the blade was only a small thing. But, how it hurt. Guildias smirked. He knew that was bound come in handy for something. 

"My, my. What seems to be the problem, Mr. Prison Keeper?" He leaned down, grabbing the blond-haired man by the throat. Leaning in, his voice dropped to a smug, mocking whisper. "Would you enjoy this, too?" Guildias adjusted his glasses and what was left of his suit. Durer seethed. He was preoccupied with his own pain and anger.

"Y-you..."

"Goodness gracious. That must smart." Guildias grabbed the bloodied wound in Durer's shoulder. He screamed. In this level of the dungeon, there was no one around that could hear. He was unable to actually see his own injury, but was fairly certain it was awful.

"I'll kill you, so slowly..." Durer salivated, his senses dulled by his anger.

"Oh, Warden." He grabbed Durer's chin roughly. "Why, I've an even better idea." His voice was already a low, seductive whisper, usually reserved for other people. "I'm a fan of small places. Let me fuck that nice little spot there." He said this while grasping at his shoulder. No, it couldn't be possible. He was actually talking about fucking a bleeding knife wound. "Is it your first time there? I'll be ever so gentle."

"Y-you're not serious... There's no way...." Durer was putting two and two together, about what Guildias was attempting. In truth, he knew about some of Guildias's bad behavior and his hand in the corruption concerning the prison. But, he didn't know the full extent of his sadism. Really, it rivaled his own.

The very idea of it was unbelievable, that Guildias would do this at all. Durer expected violence from him. Not this. Not like this.

Guildias's breathing was labored and his face was flushed. Now, his demeanor completely changed. The thought of physically knowing Durer didn't excite him before, but it did now. Guildias's erection was clearly visible through his trousers. He fidgeted anxiously with his necktie. He was practically already halfway there. It was baffling how Guildias could even get it up, much less be worked up like this. There ought to have been nothing of interest to him here. Guildias's preferences were for something young and vulnerable. Something innocent, unlike the wretched prison guard in front of him. Anything else should be contrary to his nature. But here he was, tangled up in so much mindless hatred for Durer and the desire for blood. His desire to rape and cause pain was so strong, it didn't even matter that he was not attracted to Durer. He was attracted to power and to Durer's vulnerability. He shoved Durer down, bloodying his hands.

Guildias unbuttoned his fly and pulled out his sex, rubbing against the bleeding wound. Durer was still fully clothed, but it was obvious where the knife-tear was, and where the blood was coming from underneath. The blue fabric uniform didn't offer much protection now. The wound was steadily clotting, but blood was still emitted under the agitation and some of it lubricated his dick. It was disgusting and unsanitary, but the absurdity of it all only seemed to excite him more. Guildias really took his sweet time, and felt no small amount of gratification just by nudging his aching member against the black-stained cloth, knowing the injury that was there behind it. There was no penetration, only contact. He relished the idea of causing pain to Durer, and loved the idea of Durer being too subdued to fight back. Guildias closed his eyes. At this rate, pre-come would leak into the wound. 

He wanted to commit his seed right into Durer's blood. Now, he couldn't be stopped by Durer or anyone. Guildias's thinking was even more clouded than usual. He no longer even thought about Myuca, or anyone in his image, now. The wetness on his dick, the blood, felt unreal as he jerked himself off. He rubbed his hard member indiscriminately against Durer's shoulder. It was bliss. Closing his eyes, he was fully absorbed and lost in the moment. He wanted to do this to every part of Durer, if he could. It was so good he practically felt weak in the knees. With his eyes closed he didn't even know if he was rubbing against the wound anymore, or what. But he did keep pushing it forward, up against Durer's skin, through the blood-stained uniform separating them. Moments went by, like this. He was completely gone.

Durer was not. He was on the ground and the stab had temporarily stunned him physically. For some a brief moment, he lost feeling in his arm and shoulder entirely. He was fully cogniscient of what Guildias was trying to his shoulder. As Guildias thrust forward into it more intently, he was missing the spot entirely. Fortunately for Durer, it did nothing to him. The gash was deep, but it was narrow and the blood clotted quickly. 

He knew that as soon as Guildias realized what was going on, he would focus back in on the wound, or do something new to subdue him. There wasn't much time. Durer had to stop whatever Guildias was doing. Now, the feeling fully returned to his arm and the rest of him. And to his fortune, his night-stick was still attached at his belt. Guildias neglected to take it away. If his timing was good enough, Durer could score a way out of this. In one swift motion, he picked himself up off the floor, and grabbed the night-stick at his side. Then he whipped it squarely against Guildias's head.

The impact was severe. It didn't knock Guildias unconscious, but it throw him backward left his glasses bent. Durer stood up. It didn't matter now, that there was the wound in his shoulder. The locked door. The blood on the floor. He was running on rage and adrenaline. 

Guildias no longer had the shiv, and was backed into a corner. Durer came upon him, and wrestled him down with his hands. Guildias was dazed by the blow to the head, and weakened by the fight that happened before. He couldn't get the upper hand. Durer forced Guildias's hands behind his back and fastened them with the same handcuffs as before. Except, now they were cuffed one to the other, with the chain attached to a solid beam on the ground, not the rickety latch on the wall. 

"Cute little parlor trick, with that concealed knife. You like blood, do you? Detective, you ought to better understand your limits." Durer pulled Guildias all the way down to the floor. He struggled in vain. "Now, where were we?"

Durer was hardly fazed by anything. He grabbed Guildias by the jaw, turned his face to the side and started licking the man's ear. With the other hand, he reached down and pulled Guildias's trousers back down. With uninhibited access to his member, Durer started stroking up and down like he did before. Except this time, Guildias was completely hard. The hit to the side of his head and the bruises from the scuffle hadn't affected his physical desire, somehow. Now, his dick was wet with pre-come, and perhaps blood, and the friction was smooth and perfect. Durer yanked the man's undergarments all the way down and pulled his member out for easier access. His fingers slid easily up and down, and even more pre-come leaked out of the head. It twitched involuntarily with new blood. Durer just watched perversely as he did it. Guildias shut his eyes in disgust.

"Where's that face, from before? Do you wish your dearest little Myuca was here?" Guildias was at war with himself about all this. He didn't want to enjoy the treatment from Durer, but there was no controlling it anymore. Guildias flushed and his breathing was staggered. Without realizing it, he parted his thighs a bit to give Durer even more access. He was completely at war with himself. He didn't want to be attracted to Durer. He had always thought that he could never feel desire toward something that wasn't childlike. He thought that he would never engage in sex acts with someone as despicable as Durer. Of course, that changed when he was all over Durer's wound. Now, his thoughts and feelings were all muddled together into something he didn't understand anymore. He still wanted to kill Durer, but now he also wanted to rape him. It drove him crazy, being chained down like this.

"Don't you wish you knew, where your sweet little child nymph is? Fucked up sack of shit. " Durer was never one for eloquence. "How does that make you feel, knowing you'll never have him again? But don't worry, Monsieur Guildias. You'll know my sweet company yet. Or what, do you think you're better than any of the other prisoners here? Do you think you can intimidate me?"

Durer's rude words were soft and sweetly spoken, like one would whisper to a lover. He was ever so charming, it would be a wonder if that frightening allure wouldn't work on Guildias as well. He still stroked Guildias's member, slowly and gently, but it was too slow. It was clear now that Guildias was close to getting all the way off, but could not. With his hands chained behind him, he could neither fight back nor try to gratify himself. Between this and what was done to him before, it would be enough to drive a person crazy. He wanted to struggle out of Durer's grasp but it was impossible. But then, it was as if he realized that he couldn't simply accept what Durer was doing. His eyes changed from something vacant and resigned, lost in arousal, all the way to murder.

Guildias spat out, "Mother fucker, you'll regret the-"

In one swift action, Durer backhanded Guildias across the face. It wasn't even a large impact, or enough to leave much of a mark. But it smarted. Durer expected some retort or insult, but the man was silent. Perhaps, that was enough to keep him back down for the time being. "What's wrong? None of that spark left? What was it you were talking about before, the fire?"

"You can't just-"

"I'll show you."

Then, Durer brought his other hand down lower between Guildias's thighs. Durer leaned in close now. It felt strangely intimate this way- the breath on each other's neck, the proximity to a kiss- while neither of them could see much of anything. At first, it seemed like he was just touching the man's balls. Then suddenly and without warning, Durer plunged his wet fingers into Guildias. The relaxing effect from his dick being jerked off, combined with the element of surprise meant allowed him to just slide right in. Guildias screamed and tried to fight back in vain. He had never had any kind of penetration like that. Durer pushed the fingers in deeper. He loved how tight it felt. He darted them in and out. It made a disgusting noise and Guildias felt sick. He hated what was being done to him, but he was also didn't understand himself anymore. He thought he understood himself, and his own desires. 

Guildias was nearly sick in disgust. He wanted the fingers out of him, and Durer's hands off of him, but it was no use. And yet, on some level, he still wanted to get off.

"Detective, I like you far better this way." He looked at Guildias up and down, loving how vulnerable the man looked caught up in arousal. "Still, I can't let you have all the fun."

Then, Durer withdrew his fingers completely to get use of his hands again. He unbuttoned his own fly, still wearing his blood-stained blue jailer uniform. His was hard this entire time, and finally now he had some comfort. He spat into his hand, stroked his own dick a few times, then lined it up against Guildias's.

"What on earth are you doing?"

Pressing his dick against Guildias's, he jerked them both off at the same time. The spit and pre-come from both of them made it wet and perfect. Before he knew it, Guildias was pressing his hips in, trying to get more of it. The pre-come from Durer's dick dropped right onto Guildias's. The pressure of Durer's erection rubbing against his own- it felt so perverse, still he wanted more of it. Every so often, Durer would just stop. He would only grind himself against the other man without using his hands at all. So many times Guildias was brought close to the edge but he couldn't get there. It was torture. He was about to lose his mind. At this point, Guildias just wanted to gratify himself, and get it over with, but with his hands fixed behind him he couldn't.

Then, up above, they heard a bell toll.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Durer abruptly got off of Guildias, and backed off completely. The toll echoed through the halls, and could even be heard here in the dungeon. He quickly stood up in dread, realizing something. "We'll have to cut this short. The minister is bringing his deputy in." Durer just realized that his shift was supposed to be over long ago. This little conference between them was only meant to be the proposition, maybe some conversation, nothing more. It had gone on for way longer than intended. "This is over. I'm needed elsewhere. You must return to your cell."

"What?"

"Here." Durer leaned in, and unlocked Guildias's handcuffs to free him from the ground latch. "Do not make any sudden moves. I've taken away your weapon, and will escort you back. You ought to have learned by now." Guildias didn't retaliate, but he didn't start to re-dress himself, either. He stood up, just as Durer was. Durer was in the middle of searching his pockets to produce the door key.

Then abruptly, Guildias pushed Durer against the wall. He didn't strike or stab him, but he brought their members together like before.

"This is not over."

Something about Guildias had changed. He still looked at Durer with hate, but now there was also desire. He pulled the other man right against him and fondled him. Now he was not only engaging in a sex act with Durer, but he was actively taking the lead. Durer liked this turn of events. Maybe the detective finally did lose his mind. Guildias spat into his own hand, and he jerked both of them off at the same time. His technique was different from Durer's, a bit faster. Durer wanted to protest because he truly had to leave. But it felt too good. Guildias's breathing was ragged and heavy. 

They pulled each other close like that, and clung to one another in clumsy desperation. It was nothing of love or affection or intimacy, really- only crazed physical desire. Durer grabbed the back of Guildias's head and stuck his tongue in the man's ear, then slid his hands up the man's dress shirt once more. The breath in his ear, the desperate body like his in size, pressed right against him, and the hands groping all over him- all of it felt so foreign to Guildias and gave him chills and yet he wanted more. It was becoming uncomfortably hot. Durer unbuttoned his own uniform, revealing his pale chest. It was dotted with small injuries, and spots of blood from the skirmish before. He continued to grope Guildias and grab at the man's necktie. Durer finally unbuttoned Guildias's suit-vest and shirt to get some air. Once more he pressed into the other man. It agitated his shoulder wound a bit but he didn't care anymore. They were already covered in blood.

Guildias was tired of the games they were playing. He was going to go crazy if he couldn't get off soon. He kept a tight grip and Durer liked it, he didn't try to stop him. The jailer had long forgot about his shoulder. He leaned into it and it felt good. It was easy enough to just rub his member against Guildias's, and he would not last much longer at this rate.

They grabbed one another's collar as they were prepared to ride out the rest. The friction was too much. Guildias couldn't take anymore. His left hand clung to Durer's unbuttoned uniform, using it to pull the other man in close, while he started trembling. He felt weak in his legs, it was all he could do just to stay standing like this. His mind went completely blank, lost in a type of bliss he had never known before. After being brought close to the edge so many times, it was the most intense feeling in the world. He could feel the semen leaving his body. He ejaculated all over Durer's dick. 

Even after he was done, Guildias kept jerking them off together. The warm semen smoothed all over both of them, it felt so wet and hot that Durer couldn't last much longer either. From that and the sight in front of him, he was brought over the edge. He rubbed his hard member against Guildias, and ejaculated, right onto his own and Guildias's wet dick. The semen covering both of their members dripped down onto the floor. Although they were completely aching and spent, Guildias and Durer were still standing somehow. They clung to one another, exhausted. 

It took a little while, but finally they were able to separate and fix up their clothes. Despite their both efforts, something looked incredibly fishy about them, between the blood and bruises, bent glasses, what looked like semen, and an apparent knife wound. They were wordless in doing all of this. 

Finally, Guildias broke the silence. "Warden. About the trial, I-"

"Just do whatever you want."

"What?"

"Use what evidence you have, and I can keep the minister in the dark. I have a way of making these things work. Consider it a favor."

It seemed almost too good to be true. Maybe, just maybe, Durer could pull some strings and make Bollanet's people look the other way. At the end of the day, Durer and Bollanet were separate people and Durer couldn't always advocate for his father's interests. While Durer felt a sense of obligation in asking Guildias for all this in the first place, it was never his neck on the line. 

Of course, this might have no bearing on the trial's outcome. No one could tell the future- whether Guildias would be pronounced innocent or guilty. That remained to be seen.

But who knows why he would take this sort of risk in the first place. Well, Durer had done crazier things. "Then let me ask, What is this in exchange for?"

"Keep your hands off Vallewida."

Guildias straightened out his jacket. He wondered how many times he would see this dungeon, and under what sort of circumstances. The door creaked as they both left the room. "I'll try."


End file.
